Archer Mayor - Fruits of the Poisonous Tree

I watched myself in the mirror as I prepared to shave-placing the lathered brush just below my right sideburn, working the creamy soap down one cheek, across my chin, and back up the other side. Methodical, practical, a habit born of endless repetitions. Gail’s attacker had neatly stored his clothes before waking her up, had put on gloves before trashing the room and again before running the risk of hurting his hands by striking her. He’d covered her face, protected himself by tying her down, spoken only in a whisper, had shown very little emotion, and had come prepared with rope and knife-a neat and tidy man, not easily seized by impulse. Gail had been a carefully chosen target, and raping her had been the reward for good planning.

I’d given Gail a difficult assignment, asking her to conjure up possible suspects. Any public figure, but especially an outspoken, successful, left-wing feminist, drew resentment and contempt from far beyond her knowledge. Any vote she’d cast as a selectman, any unorthodox stance she’d publicly taken, could have lit the twisted, vengeful fuse this one man so tenderly cultivated. Separating him from his surroundings, based on the very subtleties I’d told her to think about, would take some doing.

Unless, as Todd had mentioned, he’d done it before.

An hour later I stepped out of my corner office on the first floor of the Municipal Center and handed a single sheet of paper to Harriet Fritter, the detective squad’s secretary, or “clerk,” according to the current politically correct nomenclature-although Gift from God was more the way I thought of her.

She looked at it wordlessly over the top of her half-glasses, her snow-white eyebrows colliding in silent fury. Over the years that Gail had visited me here, Harriet and she had formed their own friendship.

“That’s the MO of this morning’s rapist, or at least what we have so far. I’d like copies sent to the Vermont Department of Corrections, state police, SA’s office, and the sheriffs’ and local police departments in all surrounding counties, including Massachusetts and New Hampshire. And see if you can’t set up an appointment for me with Lou Biddle at Probation and Parole-this afternoon if possible.”

“How’s Gail?” was all she asked.

“A little shaky-determined as hell. How many people know she was the victim?”

She looked slightly apologetic. “Probably everyone in the department. She’s like family because of you; it hit people hard. Are you worried her name will get out?”

I began walking toward the door leading to the building’s central hallway. “Tony says it’s just a matter of time. It might help if we can nail this guy first.”

I left her staring at the information I’d typed up, sadly shaking her head.

I crossed the hallway to the police department’s other half, where Dispatch, the officers’ room, and the chief ’s office were located. I was buzzed through the main entrance by dispatcher Maxine Paroddy and walked straight to Tony Brandt’s door. A fog bank of pipe-tobacco smoke told me of his presence somewhere within.

Brandt squinted up at me from his computer console like a distracted mad scientist surrounded by toxic fumes. “You back?”

“Have been for a while-just wrote up the MO for distribution.”

“How was Gail?”

The ever-present question. “She’s hanging in there. She insisted on giving Todd a full statement; he said he’d have a transcript to you this afternoon.”

“Learn anything?”

“The method was thought out, careful. Off the bat, I’d say he’s smart, doesn’t want to be caught, and she knows him. He took too many precautions to avoid being identified. That probably means he’s local, too.”

Brandt made a sour face. “Great. What did J.P. come up with?”

“Don’t know yet. I was about to head back up there, but I thought I’d check in first.”

He looked glumly at the computer screen for a second and then checked his watch. “Todd at his office?”

“He was headed there when I saw him last.”

“All right.” He hit a couple of keys on the computer and stood up, reaching for his jacket. “I’ll come along.”

“There’s no need; J.P.’s probably almost done anyway. I just want another look around.”

Tony was putting the jacket on. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“I’ll be right back,” I tried one last time.

He stopped, one arm in a sleeve, and looked at me levelly. “Get used to this, Joe. Trips to the can you get to take by yourself. Everything else, you have company.” He waved a hand at my obvious irritation. “I told you that at the start. I want you babysat.”

We walked to the rear parking lot in silence and got into my car. The temperature was merely cool by now, warm enough to unlock those smells of earth and trees that Brattleboro managed to retain despite its urban appearance.

“You having problems with this arrangement?” he asked.

“No; it was more for your sake.”

He went along with the lie. “Don’t worry about it-I could use the break.”

But I’d seen his wary expression just before he’d insisted on coming, and I remembered the meeting he’d had with the board of selectmen while we were interviewing Gail. Before that meeting, he wouldn’t have been so compulsive about following the guidelines he’d arranged with Dunn. “I take it the board’s not too happy with my being on the case.”

He hesitated slightly. “They have their political concerns.”

“Which are high-pitched enough to put you in this car.”

He was silent for a minute, as I got us out onto High Street, headed toward West Brattleboro. “Let’s call it preventive maintenance,” he finally said. “A down payment of good will. If the shit hits the fan, maybe they’ll remember how we kowtowed. Besides, that was the deal with Dunn.”

I sighed at the familiarity of it all-how every major investigation came fully loaded with politicians, press people, and “concerned citizens” with ulterior motives. I was grateful Tony Brandt seemed content with his hybrid role of half cop, half politico, catching most of the flak so we could focus on our jobs.

But I sensed an additional factor in his reasoning-one that explained why he wasn’t putting too much blame on the board. I was the potential loose cannon in all this, not our predictable, hand-wringing town leaders. I carried the gun, gathered the facts, and it was my lover and friend who’d been raped. Despite his apparent support, Tony Brandt was obviously less trusting of my state of mind than he was letting on, and happy to use politics as an excuse to keep me company.

“You having second thoughts about me?”

He gave me a surprised look. “No. Why?”

“Everyone else sounds pretty dubious. That’s a lot of people to ignore.”

“They don’t know you.”

I left it there, forcing him to listen to the echo of his own doubts. He finally shifted in his seat to better face me and added, “I’d be an idiot if I wasn’t concerned, Joe.”

I smiled for his sake. “True-so ask.”

“All right. Now that you’ve talked to her, how’re you handling it?”

“Not well, at first, but I think I’m getting it. The one way I can help her and myself is to do the job.”

“That simple? And what happens after we catch the guy?”

I shrugged. “None of it’s simple-it’s just all I’ve come up with. I guess I’ll see what happens next-to both of us.”

Gail’s property loomed ahead on the left as we climbed the road, its entire two acres encircled by a single, pathetic-looking yellow ribbon, repeatedly stamped, “Police Line-Do Not Cross.” At the entrance to the driveway, which now held only a handful of cars, we were stopped by one of our own patrolmen, and by a woman emerging rapidly from a parked Volvo, who ran to cut us off. Brandt groaned.